Chapter 6
Forgetting any thank-yous or good-byes, Quatre snapped the phone together and disappeared down the dark path he had just trodden. In a journey that at most took five minutes, though it felt to Quatre like an eternity, he found himself outside the bolted hospital doors. True, there were still hospital personnel lingering inside and welcoming doors waiting around the institution, but he could not risk being seen by anyone who might be associated with the enemy and the plan to wreak havoc on the pilots' lives. Wishing that he had not fallen into a false mood of security in the past few days, he cursed laudably when he remembered that he was unarmed. He soon spotted a small basement window, which forced him to dessert his coat and scarf on the lawn in order to trespass its barrier.
Finding himself in a dark, unknown section of the building, a kitchen by the looks of it, Quatre allowed his worried and nearly frantic instincts to lead him through the dimly lit hallways until he found a recognizable hall. All seemed abandoned in the dark night in the 'extended stay' wing.
Finally, he discovered the familiar swinging doors that covered Duo's room. Terrified of what scene he may open them to find, Quatre drove himself to continue with out a pause or hesitation into the chamber.
Though the rest of the room was plastered in shadows, Duo's soundly sleeping figure was illuminated by a single shallow lamp that Quatre had purposefully left lit.
*Praise the gods!* Quatre inwardly exclaimed, about collapsing with relief. His pale blonde bangs were wet with nervous sweat, and he thrust them backward as he jostled his feet to his friend's bed. *My poor Duo!* He sat on the empty edge of the bed, and lifted the sleeping boy's long chestnut bangs off his eyes to unveil his resting eyes glistening with forgotten tears. *Did I leave you in such depression that you would cry in your sleep? No matter, my dear friend, I won't leave again.*
Quatre bent his head and laid a soft kiss on Duo's temple. The touch must have rendered in his tired mind; his eyes fluttered quickly.
"Don't haunt me tonight, asshole," Duo muttered, squeezing his eyes closed and shunning the surprised Quatre. "I'm not in the mood for your beauty."
"Duo?" His eyes jerked open and he blinked wildly, trying to rid his sight of the effect of sleep. Finally his vision focused on the blonde.
"Quatre, you . . .you're real."
The young boy could not continue to hold himself back. He nearly fell on top of Duo's chest and without any uncertainty, dropped his lips unto his friend's. For a moment, Duo did not react, and Quatre feared that he had scared him to death in his broken state. But his lips soon joined into the action, and the two boys were locked together. With his eyes shut in passion, Quatre opened his lips to release his tongue, which yearned to taste more of the chasm of his friend's mouth. Duo, following lead, did the same and raised his torso off the bed to press their bodies as close as possible. Thankful that his friend had not taken the time to re-button his shirt, Quatre allowed his hands to caress his friend's softly defined chest, careful not to disturb the bruises.
Duo fell back unto the bed, halfway pushed by Quatre's ardor. The blonde could feel Duo's smooth fingers falling down his side to find the edge of his pink, tucked in shirt, which his friend preceded to un-tuck. Pausing in his hands' wanderings across the hills which made Duo's body so extremely attractive, Quatre frustratingly fondled each of his buttons loose and broke their passionate engagement to rid himself of the shirt, his purple vest carried with it. He tossed the bundle on the other bed, and, though amazingly eager to return to Duo, stopped.
Quatre could feel Duo's heat rising, longing to embrace his friend's naked torso, but his attention was caught by a thin figure standing at the edge of the lamp's light. A shine appeared on the red lips of the figure as it smiled.
"So sorry to interrupt you boys again," came Claire's slurred voice, "but Maxwell has an appointment that he must not miss."
More than caught off guard, Quatre was frozen to the bed. Duo twitched onto his elbows.
The figure presented a long bladed scalpel from behind her back. For a moment she allowed it to shine with the reflection of the dim light, then flipped it into her fist like a weapon. Her feet took off and she charged at the braided pilot. (1)
All in a moment, Duo winced as he was pushed off of the bed and landed on the hard tile; the crazed nurse had let her attack go a millisecond too late, and her weapon was steered away by an interloping shoulder; Quatre's face was lead by the force of the scalpel, its path plunging into the skin of his pale shoulder and just grazing his fair cheek.
Angry red blood, flung from the wound on his shoulder, splattered Quatre's face, and mixed with the leaking blood from his scratched cheek.
This all happened within a instant. The moment, however, seemed to freeze in time.
--------------------------------------------
Quatre's mind snapped into a self defense/extensive training/soldier mode. His elbow involuntarily bashed into Claire's nose, throwing her limp body away from the bed and her broken glasses across the room.
"Holy f*ck," the injured voice of Duo came from the floor. "What the hell . . ?"
"She's with the enemy, Duo. You're scheduled as their target tonight." Quatre winced, holding his gushing shoulder wound. He glanced over the side of the bed. "Are you alright?"
"F*ck no," the braided boy replied, and by the pained expression on his face, that was an understatement. He laid half on his side cringing in agony. Quatre noticed his friend's face had fallen to a pale gray tint again, but his soldier's mind merely registered this as a sign that Duo could not fight and would need protection.
His attention was brought back to Claire as she grunted to her wobbly feet. She seemed animal-like as she bared her teeth and, with blood streaming down her lips from her nose, started again with the scalpel ready. This time, however, Quatre was prepared. He spun to his back, and met the malicious assault by kicking it sideways. Claire stumbled between the two hospital beds and Quatre took advantage of this to retaliate. He caught her thin form and pressed it onto the clean bed that she had once assigned to him. Glistening blood dripped from his shoulder onto the thrashing and already bloody face of his attacker.
Quatre hesitated, his arm poised for a punch for Claire's face, and watched as her glazed eyes shifted without focusing.
"She's been drugged!" he exclaimed, pinching her fidgeting arms to the bed.
"What?"
Quatre ventured a quick glance behind him and caught his friend reaching painfully to his knees. The braided boy was reaching under the red speckled pillow. Before he could see what he was finding, Claire's chest bucked and almost threw him off.
"Her eyes are unnaturally glazed, Duo! She's been drugged," Quatre's mind flitted back to the evening he had first met the nurse, the kind and caring version of her. *Has she been drugged this entire time?* He instinctly knocked the blade out of Claire's hand between thoughts. *To drug her like this, the person giving orders to her dejected mind must stay close to her*
As if cued by this thought, the doors swung wide open. Quatre twisted his head, though still pinning the drugged woman down with his bare chest, and met a hateful glare on a wrinkled face.
"Good God! Kids these days just can't murder people like professionals anymore!" the old nurse spitefully complained, directing the barrel of a gun to Quatre's back. He noticed that today she sported a blue kerchief about her neck, a yellow OZ emblem embroidered in the corner.
Even the soldier mode of Quatre's mind did not know how to react. First his enemy had been a youthful beauty that at one point in time was a sympathetic person; now it shifted to a woman that once reminded him of a stereotypical grandmother with short, curly by force, white hair. The 'grandmotherly' woman now had a fiercely wild expression, and held the gun steady, as if her hands were more used to holding it than holding kitting needles or grandchildren.
Though stunned by the turn of events, the situation made some sense to the blonde. *What a clue I missed!* he cursed at himself. *What real nurse stores prepared syringes in her jacket pocket?! Shit! I have to move!* He stared down the shinning barrel of the pistol. *I'm fast enough to pull this psycho girl in front of me as a shield . . .* his mind was caught on the thought * . . .but she's an innocent, pulled into this mess by the enemy! Damnit!* Before he could make any move though, the aged Oz associate pulled him away from his thoughts.
"Don't move, Winner!" she demanded. "I'd rather kill both you and that little slut at the same time!"
Quatre turned back to scrutinize the blurred, blue eyes that held no understanding of the danger their owner was in. The click of a gun being cocked rung in his ears. Tension hung in the air and the moment consciously froze in time inside Quatre's mind. There was nothing for him to do: he could not flee and leave Claire to take the full of the bullet, but neither could he allow himself to be murdered when both Claire and Duo were in no shape to protect themselves.
*No! My Duo . . . !*
But time was up; Quatre's future was chosen for him. The blast of a bullet charging down its barrel lingered in the small, dimly lit hospital dorm.
----------------------------------
In a few minutes, the echoing shot directed the night shift of the hospital to Duo's room, though the boy and his companion were not to be found within. All that the scared, yet interested employees found were the body of their fellow worker slumped against the wall, her right eye now a wide hole oozing thick, red blood, and the enraged and delirious young nurse fighting against a firmly secured pink shirt holding her wrists to the silver bars that supported the beds.
-----------------------------------
After nearly escaping death, with the aid of Duo's perfectly hidden personal handgun, the two boys shuffled quietly down the peaceful, empty streets of the dark city. Duo in a thin, cheap set of general hospital pajamas, and Quatre in nothing but his kaki slacks, the boys were forced to share Quatre's retrieved coat the entire journey to the hotel. His expensive scarf soaked up the raging flow of blood from his shoulder and eventually helped to pressurize it into calming down.
Upon reaching the hotel room, the pilots felt it best to first dress their wounds properly, then make contact with their fellow pilots, were would be eager to hear from both of them. Quatre yanked his first aid kit out of his duffle bag and opened it. A small pistol lay on top, which he threw onto his pillow before taking the gauze and anti-septic out of the metal case. While Duo, with soft, careful fingers, dressed his shoulder, Quatre flipped open his cell phone.
"Hello."
"Trowa! It's Quatre!"
"Oh? How are you?"
The two friends shared the excitement of the night's adventure, Quatre of course leaving out a few minor details, such as what Duo and he were doing when Claire appeared that night. Trowa, in turn, updated the blonde on happenings of the enemy's movements.
As he clapped the phone shut, after expressing his thanks to Heero and the others for the incredibly helpful information, Quatre turned towards Duo, who laid on his back on the single hotel bed, his shirt undone.
"We have orders to return to the hangar to retrieve our Gundams; we rendezvous tomorrow afternoon," he said, giving his friend a distraught gaze.
"Well, then," Duo replied, his infamous grin of mischief appearing on his face, "as this is our last day of the closest thing we get to a vacation, we'll have to enjoy ourselves tonight in celebration."
"Yes," the young blonde agreed, crawling across the bed to straddle his knees on either side of the purple-eyed boy's waist, "we will."
-----------------------------------
THE END of "The Hospital Room," by Ana Mei
-----------------------------------
(1)- uggg, I REALLY don't like syringes either! They creep me out! But what else would be better for a nurse to use to kill someone? Sorry, stupid footnote . . .continue reading, plez.
[[[whoosh! I'm done! What do you think, did ya like it? I don't know, I really am peeved at the little mistakes in the plot 'n stuph, but what am I gonna do? I find that when I have something planned out, like when I planned out the conclusion, its harder to write than when I just sit down and say, oh that would be cool! I wind up leaving huge spaces filled with "So this happens! I can't word it right now!" and so that's why the conclusion was choppy, least I thought it was.
Anyways, I started that drawing that I promised! Wahoo! I don't know when I'll have it finished or uploaded on my sight, but I'll do it soon and post the address on the first chapter when its done!
Thank you all who stuck with this long-winded story! I know, I'm quite the tease: ending almost every chapter in confusion or suspense; having sexy scenes interrupted! As to that . . .well I was thinking about writing an "adults only" epilogue, giving some detail to their night in the hotel, but I'm not sure. . .the hospital bed was such a cooler scene than a stupid hotel bed. Anyone can screw around in a hotel room! OMG, I'm so sorry, I did NOT mean to say such blatantly sexual things! I'm so embarrassed of myself! I'm leaving now, thanks again!
and Claire, the commenter, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to steal your name or anything, I wrote the nurse's name the day before I read your comment and was like "oh, that's weird!" So hey! You can think of yourself as a guest star in my fic! As the part of a deranged, sexy nurse . . .O_o like I said, I'm so sorry!]]]
Forgetting any thank-yous or good-byes, Quatre snapped the phone together and disappeared down the dark path he had just trodden. In a journey that at most took five minutes, though it felt to Quatre like an eternity, he found himself outside the bolted hospital doors. True, there were still hospital personnel lingering inside and welcoming doors waiting around the institution, but he could not risk being seen by anyone who might be associated with the enemy and the plan to wreak havoc on the pilots' lives. Wishing that he had not fallen into a false mood of security in the past few days, he cursed laudably when he remembered that he was unarmed. He soon spotted a small basement window, which forced him to dessert his coat and scarf on the lawn in order to trespass its barrier.
Finding himself in a dark, unknown section of the building, a kitchen by the looks of it, Quatre allowed his worried and nearly frantic instincts to lead him through the dimly lit hallways until he found a recognizable hall. All seemed abandoned in the dark night in the 'extended stay' wing.
Finally, he discovered the familiar swinging doors that covered Duo's room. Terrified of what scene he may open them to find, Quatre drove himself to continue with out a pause or hesitation into the chamber.
Though the rest of the room was plastered in shadows, Duo's soundly sleeping figure was illuminated by a single shallow lamp that Quatre had purposefully left lit.
*Praise the gods!* Quatre inwardly exclaimed, about collapsing with relief. His pale blonde bangs were wet with nervous sweat, and he thrust them backward as he jostled his feet to his friend's bed. *My poor Duo!* He sat on the empty edge of the bed, and lifted the sleeping boy's long chestnut bangs off his eyes to unveil his resting eyes glistening with forgotten tears. *Did I leave you in such depression that you would cry in your sleep? No matter, my dear friend, I won't leave again.*
Quatre bent his head and laid a soft kiss on Duo's temple. The touch must have rendered in his tired mind; his eyes fluttered quickly.
"Don't haunt me tonight, asshole," Duo muttered, squeezing his eyes closed and shunning the surprised Quatre. "I'm not in the mood for your beauty."
"Duo?" His eyes jerked open and he blinked wildly, trying to rid his sight of the effect of sleep. Finally his vision focused on the blonde.
"Quatre, you . . .you're real."
The young boy could not continue to hold himself back. He nearly fell on top of Duo's chest and without any uncertainty, dropped his lips unto his friend's. For a moment, Duo did not react, and Quatre feared that he had scared him to death in his broken state. But his lips soon joined into the action, and the two boys were locked together. With his eyes shut in passion, Quatre opened his lips to release his tongue, which yearned to taste more of the chasm of his friend's mouth. Duo, following lead, did the same and raised his torso off the bed to press their bodies as close as possible. Thankful that his friend had not taken the time to re-button his shirt, Quatre allowed his hands to caress his friend's softly defined chest, careful not to disturb the bruises.
Duo fell back unto the bed, halfway pushed by Quatre's ardor. The blonde could feel Duo's smooth fingers falling down his side to find the edge of his pink, tucked in shirt, which his friend preceded to un-tuck. Pausing in his hands' wanderings across the hills which made Duo's body so extremely attractive, Quatre frustratingly fondled each of his buttons loose and broke their passionate engagement to rid himself of the shirt, his purple vest carried with it. He tossed the bundle on the other bed, and, though amazingly eager to return to Duo, stopped.
Quatre could feel Duo's heat rising, longing to embrace his friend's naked torso, but his attention was caught by a thin figure standing at the edge of the lamp's light. A shine appeared on the red lips of the figure as it smiled.
"So sorry to interrupt you boys again," came Claire's slurred voice, "but Maxwell has an appointment that he must not miss."
More than caught off guard, Quatre was frozen to the bed. Duo twitched onto his elbows.
The figure presented a long bladed scalpel from behind her back. For a moment she allowed it to shine with the reflection of the dim light, then flipped it into her fist like a weapon. Her feet took off and she charged at the braided pilot. (1)
All in a moment, Duo winced as he was pushed off of the bed and landed on the hard tile; the crazed nurse had let her attack go a millisecond too late, and her weapon was steered away by an interloping shoulder; Quatre's face was lead by the force of the scalpel, its path plunging into the skin of his pale shoulder and just grazing his fair cheek.
Angry red blood, flung from the wound on his shoulder, splattered Quatre's face, and mixed with the leaking blood from his scratched cheek.
This all happened within a instant. The moment, however, seemed to freeze in time.
--------------------------------------------
Quatre's mind snapped into a self defense/extensive training/soldier mode. His elbow involuntarily bashed into Claire's nose, throwing her limp body away from the bed and her broken glasses across the room.
"Holy f*ck," the injured voice of Duo came from the floor. "What the hell . . ?"
"She's with the enemy, Duo. You're scheduled as their target tonight." Quatre winced, holding his gushing shoulder wound. He glanced over the side of the bed. "Are you alright?"
"F*ck no," the braided boy replied, and by the pained expression on his face, that was an understatement. He laid half on his side cringing in agony. Quatre noticed his friend's face had fallen to a pale gray tint again, but his soldier's mind merely registered this as a sign that Duo could not fight and would need protection.
His attention was brought back to Claire as she grunted to her wobbly feet. She seemed animal-like as she bared her teeth and, with blood streaming down her lips from her nose, started again with the scalpel ready. This time, however, Quatre was prepared. He spun to his back, and met the malicious assault by kicking it sideways. Claire stumbled between the two hospital beds and Quatre took advantage of this to retaliate. He caught her thin form and pressed it onto the clean bed that she had once assigned to him. Glistening blood dripped from his shoulder onto the thrashing and already bloody face of his attacker.
Quatre hesitated, his arm poised for a punch for Claire's face, and watched as her glazed eyes shifted without focusing.
"She's been drugged!" he exclaimed, pinching her fidgeting arms to the bed.
"What?"
Quatre ventured a quick glance behind him and caught his friend reaching painfully to his knees. The braided boy was reaching under the red speckled pillow. Before he could see what he was finding, Claire's chest bucked and almost threw him off.
"Her eyes are unnaturally glazed, Duo! She's been drugged," Quatre's mind flitted back to the evening he had first met the nurse, the kind and caring version of her. *Has she been drugged this entire time?* He instinctly knocked the blade out of Claire's hand between thoughts. *To drug her like this, the person giving orders to her dejected mind must stay close to her*
As if cued by this thought, the doors swung wide open. Quatre twisted his head, though still pinning the drugged woman down with his bare chest, and met a hateful glare on a wrinkled face.
"Good God! Kids these days just can't murder people like professionals anymore!" the old nurse spitefully complained, directing the barrel of a gun to Quatre's back. He noticed that today she sported a blue kerchief about her neck, a yellow OZ emblem embroidered in the corner.
Even the soldier mode of Quatre's mind did not know how to react. First his enemy had been a youthful beauty that at one point in time was a sympathetic person; now it shifted to a woman that once reminded him of a stereotypical grandmother with short, curly by force, white hair. The 'grandmotherly' woman now had a fiercely wild expression, and held the gun steady, as if her hands were more used to holding it than holding kitting needles or grandchildren.
Though stunned by the turn of events, the situation made some sense to the blonde. *What a clue I missed!* he cursed at himself. *What real nurse stores prepared syringes in her jacket pocket?! Shit! I have to move!* He stared down the shinning barrel of the pistol. *I'm fast enough to pull this psycho girl in front of me as a shield . . .* his mind was caught on the thought * . . .but she's an innocent, pulled into this mess by the enemy! Damnit!* Before he could make any move though, the aged Oz associate pulled him away from his thoughts.
"Don't move, Winner!" she demanded. "I'd rather kill both you and that little slut at the same time!"
Quatre turned back to scrutinize the blurred, blue eyes that held no understanding of the danger their owner was in. The click of a gun being cocked rung in his ears. Tension hung in the air and the moment consciously froze in time inside Quatre's mind. There was nothing for him to do: he could not flee and leave Claire to take the full of the bullet, but neither could he allow himself to be murdered when both Claire and Duo were in no shape to protect themselves.
*No! My Duo . . . !*
But time was up; Quatre's future was chosen for him. The blast of a bullet charging down its barrel lingered in the small, dimly lit hospital dorm.
----------------------------------
In a few minutes, the echoing shot directed the night shift of the hospital to Duo's room, though the boy and his companion were not to be found within. All that the scared, yet interested employees found were the body of their fellow worker slumped against the wall, her right eye now a wide hole oozing thick, red blood, and the enraged and delirious young nurse fighting against a firmly secured pink shirt holding her wrists to the silver bars that supported the beds.
-----------------------------------
After nearly escaping death, with the aid of Duo's perfectly hidden personal handgun, the two boys shuffled quietly down the peaceful, empty streets of the dark city. Duo in a thin, cheap set of general hospital pajamas, and Quatre in nothing but his kaki slacks, the boys were forced to share Quatre's retrieved coat the entire journey to the hotel. His expensive scarf soaked up the raging flow of blood from his shoulder and eventually helped to pressurize it into calming down.
Upon reaching the hotel room, the pilots felt it best to first dress their wounds properly, then make contact with their fellow pilots, were would be eager to hear from both of them. Quatre yanked his first aid kit out of his duffle bag and opened it. A small pistol lay on top, which he threw onto his pillow before taking the gauze and anti-septic out of the metal case. While Duo, with soft, careful fingers, dressed his shoulder, Quatre flipped open his cell phone.
"Hello."
"Trowa! It's Quatre!"
"Oh? How are you?"
The two friends shared the excitement of the night's adventure, Quatre of course leaving out a few minor details, such as what Duo and he were doing when Claire appeared that night. Trowa, in turn, updated the blonde on happenings of the enemy's movements.
As he clapped the phone shut, after expressing his thanks to Heero and the others for the incredibly helpful information, Quatre turned towards Duo, who laid on his back on the single hotel bed, his shirt undone.
"We have orders to return to the hangar to retrieve our Gundams; we rendezvous tomorrow afternoon," he said, giving his friend a distraught gaze.
"Well, then," Duo replied, his infamous grin of mischief appearing on his face, "as this is our last day of the closest thing we get to a vacation, we'll have to enjoy ourselves tonight in celebration."
"Yes," the young blonde agreed, crawling across the bed to straddle his knees on either side of the purple-eyed boy's waist, "we will."
-----------------------------------
THE END of "The Hospital Room," by Ana Mei
-----------------------------------
(1)- uggg, I REALLY don't like syringes either! They creep me out! But what else would be better for a nurse to use to kill someone? Sorry, stupid footnote . . .continue reading, plez.
[[[whoosh! I'm done! What do you think, did ya like it? I don't know, I really am peeved at the little mistakes in the plot 'n stuph, but what am I gonna do? I find that when I have something planned out, like when I planned out the conclusion, its harder to write than when I just sit down and say, oh that would be cool! I wind up leaving huge spaces filled with "So this happens! I can't word it right now!" and so that's why the conclusion was choppy, least I thought it was.
Anyways, I started that drawing that I promised! Wahoo! I don't know when I'll have it finished or uploaded on my sight, but I'll do it soon and post the address on the first chapter when its done!
Thank you all who stuck with this long-winded story! I know, I'm quite the tease: ending almost every chapter in confusion or suspense; having sexy scenes interrupted! As to that . . .well I was thinking about writing an "adults only" epilogue, giving some detail to their night in the hotel, but I'm not sure. . .the hospital bed was such a cooler scene than a stupid hotel bed. Anyone can screw around in a hotel room! OMG, I'm so sorry, I did NOT mean to say such blatantly sexual things! I'm so embarrassed of myself! I'm leaving now, thanks again!
and Claire, the commenter, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to steal your name or anything, I wrote the nurse's name the day before I read your comment and was like "oh, that's weird!" So hey! You can think of yourself as a guest star in my fic! As the part of a deranged, sexy nurse . . .O_o like I said, I'm so sorry!]]]
